


Mine

by obsessivereader



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bearded Steve Rogers, Because of Reasons, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tony Is a Good Bro, everyone is one big happy family, ignores Captain America: Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivereader/pseuds/obsessivereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men walk into a general store one day... The little old lady behind the counter ends up totally shipping them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtybinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtybinary/gifts), [lotusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/gifts).



Martha looks up as the bell above the door tinkles. A man walks in. He’s tall, blond, and has a body that belongs on a pedestal: wide, wide shoulders that taper down to an almost ludicrously narrow waist. After a quick scan of the store, he greets her with a polite “Ma’am” in a deep and confident voice.

Martha can’t remember the last time she was _ma’am_ -ed. It’s a novel experience. He’s also polite enough to ignore the fact that she’s probably gaping like a fish.

He stands at parade rest and smiles at her. His smile is friendly enough but completely opaque; practiced like the smiles of the celebrities that fill the pages of gossip magazines. His neatly trimmed beard frames plush lips that are the kind of beautiful rose color Martha can only get from a tube. The beard and the prominent, slightly crooked nose keep him just this side of the line between handsome and pretty. There’s an almost tangible weight to his gaze; direct, assured.

Something about him tugs at her memory. Where has she seen--?

The bell tinkles again. A dark-haired man walks in with a smooth and purposeful gait. Like the first man, he too scans the interior of the store. He's as beautiful as the first man, but it's a darker beauty, more human, more careworn. There are shadows under his eyes and stubble on his cheeks. He doesn't meet her eyes as he approaches the counter, but keeps his head averted. His heavy black boots make no sound as he walks across the floorboards.

He comes to a stop just behind and to the side of the first man, who’s half-turned towards him. He leans in and starts talking to the first man in a voice too soft for Martha to hear. The first man tilts his head in his friend’s direction. There’s a warm glow in the first man’s eyes as he listens, and something almost protective in the way his body curves towards his friend.

If the first man doesn’t give much away, the second man is impenetrable. His face is expressionless and his eyes, flat. There’s a stillness to him, yet he gives the impression of an immensity of roiling energy that’s been packed down and strapped in and held under tight control.

As though sensing Martha’s scrutiny, he looks up at her with cold grey eyes. Martha freezes. Some years ago, Martha had volunteered at a wolf sanctuary because, as Robert said, she liked finding wild creatures a place to belong. A male timber wolf in its prime had been brought in, wild and mistrustful of humans. The first time she’d seen that wolf, he had stared her down, and the grey-eyed man’s gaze feels much the same. Being the sole focus of an apex predator makes her heart accelerate and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She turns away to fuss with the candy bars in their display box on the counter. After a moment, the man moves towards the back of the store and Martha breathes a little easier.

The first man frowns after him. The light in his clear blue eyes have dimmed and his shoulders droop a little. When he turns back to Martha, the polite mask is back in place.

“I’m Steve,” he says. “My friend and I are staying at the house by the lake. We decided to stop by to say ‘hi’ and pick up some supplies.”

Martha notes the slight pause before Steve says ‘friend’. Does that mean the man is more than a friend, or less...?

“I’m Martha,” she says. “How long do you both plan on staying?”

“About three weeks.”

“You’ve picked a lovely time for a visit. The fall leaves are beautiful this time of year.”

Steve’s lips quirk up. “A friend recommended it for that exact reason.”

Martha looks over to Steve’s friend, hoping to get his name. He’s given up all pretense of browsing the shelves and is watching them openly. Steve smiles that polished mirror smile of his but doesn’t say anything. It’s a little odd, since Steve had been forthcoming enough with his own name. Martha mentally shrugs and dubs him ‘Stubble Guy’.

The small logo on Steve’s grey t-shirt catches her eye. And then she gets distracted by the way the t-shirt lovingly delineates Steve’s impressive pectorals. Martha tries her best not to stare, but it’s not easy and she doesn’t quite succeed.

When she looks back up, Steve is watching her with a wry expression. She flushes and indicates his outfit of leather jacket, jeans and a light t-shirt. “I hope you packed warmer clothes. It can get cold up by the lake.” Yup, that's why she’s looking. Honest, officer, she’s just worried they’ll get cold.

Steve’s eyes harden and the corners of his mouth turn down. Martha's heart skips a beat and she starts to stammer out an apology.

“Thanks for letting us know,” he says in a measured voice. Martha closes her mouth with a click. His gaze flicks to his friend. “We don’t much like the cold.”

There’s a look in Steve’s eyes that Martha can’t decipher, but for the second time that day, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He gives her an abrupt nod and stalks off to join his friend. Martha’s hands are clammy with sweat. Steve could be just as scary as his friend.

Stubble Guy watches Steve walk towards him. The lines around his mouth have deepened and his eyes look haunted. When Steve is close enough, Stubble Guy reaches out and just barely brushes Steve’s arm with his hand. It’s like he’s trying to comfort Steve. They stare at each other for moment. Then Steve releases a pent-up breath and the tension drains from his body. He’s still not altogether happy, but that oppressive feeling of an approaching storm dissipates and the store stops feeling so uncomfortably cramped.

The two men turn as one to browse the shelves and start amassing an astounding quantity of candy and chips and protein bars. It’s an interesting process. Steve takes an item seemingly at random from the shelves and offers it up to Stubble Guy for approval. He stares at Stubble Guy for a moment, and then either adds the item to their collection or returns it to the shelf. About five different kinds of potato chips pass muster. Then a bag of Cheetos, although Stubble Guy seems a little undecided given how long Steve stands there holding the packet out towards him. Every second or third protein bar is accepted. Chocolate bars are rejected out of hand. Not candy bars though, those are grabbed by the fistfuls.

It’s kind of driving Martha crazy, because even after watching them go through several rounds, she still can’t figure out just how Stubble Guy signals his choice to Steve. As far as Martha can see, he’s about as expressive as a stump. Does he blink once for ‘yes’, twice for ‘no’? Is it mental telepathy? Who knows? Anything’s possible after the whole 'aliens from another dimension' craziness in New York.

At no point does Stubble Guy turn his back to the door or Martha. With his long, slightly tangled hair, dark, worn clothes, and black leather gloves, Martha wouldn’t have felt safe if he’d come in on his own. But Martha can see how much Steve cares for him, and trustworthiness radiates out from Steve like halo. So it’s a pretty safe bet that there’s a good person underneath that shady exterior.

She amuses herself for a while watching the two out-sized men as they try to hang on to their packets of food. When it looks like the packets are about to spill from their arms, they share a bemused look. Martha takes pity on them and comes out from behind the counter to get them a basket, grimacing at the twinge in her knees when she bends down to pick one up.

Stubble Guy is looking right at her when she straightens. His gaze sharpens as she nears, his intent focus absurdly at odds with the shiny, colorful packets of food cradled in his arms.

She holds the basket out to them. “Would you like to…?” Her voice trails off under that fierce stare.

Steve at least looks relieved to see her. “Thank you, ma’am.” He dumps his packets into the proffered basket in a shower of multicolored foil before taking it from her.

Martha compresses her lips to stop a smile as she watches Steve’s quietly terrifying friend deposit his collection of packets into the basket with great care. She doubts he’ll appreciate being found amusing. He completes the transfer without the packets making even the slightest crinkling sound.  

She continues to study them once she’s back on her stool behind the counter. They’re nothing like the usual guests at the lake house. Those guests tend to be affluent and fashionable, slim and languid, stopping by the store and remarking on its quaintness in desultory tones.

Steve and his friend, on the other hand, have a martial air about them. She recognizes their wariness and vigilance, Robert had been much the same when he’d first got back from Vietnam. Steve hides it better, or it’d be more accurate to say, Steve actually _tries_ to hide it. Stubble Guy just wears his mistrust like a second skin. Whatever Steve had been through, Martha suspects his friend had survived much worse.

The two men complete their purchase and drive off in a nondescript car. She climbs back onto her stool and takes a deep, cleansing breath. She’s never had such large men in her store before, and she doesn't mean just physically. They took up way more space than their bodies occupied, especially Steve’s friend. Steve has a commanding presence, but his friend’s intensity… it _presses._ Martha settles back and takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of space.

___

Martha’s browsing the selection of vegetables at Sarah’s stall when a pair of familiar shoulders hove into view. He’s wearing a cap, and it’s pretty crowded in the market, but there’s no hiding those shoulders. She glances along the direction he’s heading and… yes. There. The friend. Martha makes mental air quotes around the word ‘friend’.

He’s over by Tim’s fruit stall buying some apples, wearing a dark, long sleeved Henley and, once again, the black leather gloves. It’s a little unusual given it's a warm day. She’s pretty sure he looks better than he did two weeks ago when she first saw him. He seems more present, settled into his own skin, less feral. His eyes are still haunted, but there’s animation in them now. He even seems to be humoring Tim, who’s a little too fond of the sound of his own voice. Stubble Guy may not be talking _,_ but he’s maintaining eye contact and nodding every now and then. He also has the perplexed look common to people being talked at by Tim.

When Stubble Guy finally escapes Tim, Martha ignores Sarah’s confused look and abandons her vegetables. She tries to look interested in the foodstuffs on display as she meanders along the aisle running parallel with his. He still moves with that eerily mesmerizing grace and, despite his bulk, he slips through the crowd with barely a ripple in his wake.

He hasn’t noticed the blond behemoth tracking him with single-minded purpose through the crowd. Unlike his friend, Steve generates a bow wave of people scurrying out of his way. Steve is not a subtle one _._

Just before Steve reaches him, he stops and turns around to face Steve. Martha can just make out a little smirk on his face. Steve halts mid-step and looks caught out and chagrined. And then a smile breaks out on Steve’s face and Martha has to catch her breath. He _glows._

The two men stare at each other for a long moment, Steve with that dopey grin, and Stubble Guy with that little smirk. Stubble Guy is sort of glowing too, Martha realizes, but it’s a softer and quieter glow.

He says something to Steve, just one word. Martha wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Steve’s glow increases a notch. Steve replies; also just one word. They don’t break eye contact the whole time. They are a still point in a moving crowd. They attract curious stares, but no one else seems to exist for them.

Steve reaches out his hand. He hesitates a moment before taking hold of Stubble Guy’s hand with gentle fingers. Stubble Guy ducks his head and the curl of his mouth changes to something sweeter, and Martha can just make out little crinkles at the corner of his eye. They stand there a moment, staring down at their clasped hands. When they continue walking, their heads are tilted close together, and their fingers, intertwined.

There’s still a vigilance to them as they move through the crowd, but Stubble Guy seems less wary. He’s also not the only one who’s changed during the two weeks. Steve too, has come alive; warmth infusing the marble. Steve’s gaze seems pulled again and again towards his friend, and there’s an expression on his face that looks like wonder. Martha blinks a few times to soothe the sudden prickle in her eyes.

They stop when they reach the cheese stall. Steve moves to stand behind Stubble Guy because there are a few other customers at the stall. Martha is amused to note that he’s pressed right up against Stubble Guy’s back. _Sure_ he’s just being considerate. The proprietary hand on his friend’s hip seems to indicate his motives might not be altogether pure. His friend doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

At least until Steve takes the opportunity to use his height to rub his bearded chin against his friend’s ear. Stubble Guy doesn’t even flinch, but he does place a hand right over Steve’s face and shove gently. Steve gives him a sly grin when he glares at Steve with a long-suffering look on his face. The slight upward curve of Stubble Guy’s lips give him away, though.

Then Stubble Guy turns his head and looks right at Martha.

Martha sort of... squeaks a little and clutches her shopping bag in front of her. He raises one eyebrow as if to say “Enjoying the show?”. Steve turns to see what his friend is looking at and notices Martha. His lips quirk in amusement, and then he acknowledges her with a nod. She stretches her lips into what she hopes is a fair approximation of a smile before scurrying off, her face burning with embarrassment.

She can’t wait to tell Robert everything. He’d been eager to hear about the two men, although he’d given her an amused look when she’d waxed a little too poetic about Steve’s shoulders and Stubble Guy’s eyes. Martha and Robert know from painful experience that returning from the war is not the same as coming home. So seeing them together and happy feels kind of like a personal victory.   

____

It’s several months before she finally learns the identity of the two men who had come to her store. She’s at home watching the news with Robert when the news breaks that Bucky Barnes is alive, is the Winter Soldier, and is being court-martialed for aiding the enemy. It’s a death penalty if he’s found guilty. According to the reporter at the scene, Barnes has agreed to turn himself in and submit to the court-martial.

Army personnel have cordoned off the entrance to Avengers Tower and are holding back the reporters and cameramen jockeying for position. Curious onlookers have gathered further back and are standing about with their cellphones ready. The newscaster is recapping historical information on Barnes. In the top left-hand corner of the TV, the station is screening shaky cellphone videos of the Winter Soldier taken during the battle on the bridge in Washington.

There’s a hush when the glass doors slide open. A group of heavily armed soldiers walk out, followed by the Black Widow and Falcon. Pandemonium breaks loose as the reporters push forward and start shouting questions. Martha tunes out the newscaster’s voice and focuses on the people on the screen.

Captain America walks out in uniform. The only things missing are the shield and the cowl. Martha grips Robert’s arm in shock. He’s shaved since she last saw him, but--

Martha points at the screen, “That’s Steve!”

Robert gapes at her. “The man in the store? The one with, what’s his name… Stubble Guy?”

Martha nods her head, still in a daze. How had she missed it? Sure, there was the beard, but that ridiculous body, those blue eyes, those lips, that air of command and trustworthiness, that _nose… Steve_ is Captain America. And Captain America is _furious._ Silence falls over the crowd as he stares stonily at them. Even the newscaster stops talking.

So if Steve is Captain America...

A second group of soldiers lead Barnes out and the camera zooms in on him. Martha presses a hand to her lips. It’s Stubble Guy. All the glimmers of warmth and happiness she’d seen that day in the market are gone, replaced with hollow-eyed resignation. His cuffs and shackles look like they’re made of solid blocks of steel. The heavy chain connecting the shackles is so short that he can only manage a lurching shuffle. Her heart breaks a little at the sight.

The soldiers surrounding him look tense and, quite honestly, terrified. Several of them are carrying what look like cattle prods.

Black Widow and Falcon flank Steve as Barnes is led to the first of the armored vehicles parked at the curb. Steve stands with his hands curled into fists, his jaw clenched and his lips compressed. The first group of soldiers face him and form a solid wall in front of him. They’re tense, shifting their weight back and forth. Martha wonders how they must feel, having to face down Captain America and his serum-enhanced strength.

Just before Barnes is pushed inside the vehicle, Steve surges forward. Everyone flinches. The image on the screen jerks. Several people scream. The newscaster gasps. The Widow and Falcon grab his arms. The soldiers closest to him lurch back a step before standing their ground.

Barnes stops walking, ignoring the soldiers trying to tug him forward. He catches Steve’s eye and says gently, reproachfully, “Steve.” And that’s all it takes. Steve stops dead. Martha is reminded once again of a marble statue, cold and hard. Falcon places a hand on Steve’s arm and starts talking to him. Steve’s gaze is fixed on Barnes and he doesn’t seem to register Falcon’s presence.

Martha will never forget the look on Steve’s face as he watches the soldiers load Barnes into the vehicle. When the vehicle’s doors slam shut, Steve turns on his heel and stalks towards a car waiting at the curb. People scramble out of his way. He gets into the car, together with Falcon, and it pulls away to follow the vehicles. The Widow is at the wheel. The newscaster reminds viewers that Steve marched into enemy territory without any back-up, and proceeded to destroy a HYDRA base to save Barnes.

Martha shares a shocked glance with Robert. It’s not possible. Bucky Barnes. One of the greatest influences on Steve Rogers growing up. The man who’d smiled and ducked his head when Steve reached for his hand. There is no way he would willingly kill innocent men, women and children.

But the next news segment details how HYDRA hollowed out Barnes through decades of torture and brainwashing. And then it all makes a horrible kind of sense. Martha can’t even begin to fathom how much strength it takes to come back from something like that. When the newscaster talks about ‘cryotubes’ and Barnes being ‘put on ice between missions’, Martha finally understands Steve’s remark about not liking the cold.

Robert turns off the TV when he sees the tears sliding down her cheeks.

In the days that follow, all the Avengers come out in support of Steve and Barnes. Tony Stark, that brash, showy man, hires the best lawyers that money can buy. Speculation is rife when it’s reported that the Black Widow testifies for the defense during the court-martial.

But in the end, it all comes back to Steve. He advocates tirelessly for Barnes’s lack of culpability in the crimes he committed while under HYDRA’s control. He releases information from HYDRA’s own files. There’s a list, horrifying in its length and clinical detachment, of the various ways Barnes had been tortured to force his compliance. A photograph of Barnes frozen in the cryotube. And then the final item, a photograph of Barnes strapped into something that resembles a dentist’s chair while a machine wipes his memories, his face contorted in pain. Martha buries her face in Robert’s shoulder and soaks his shirt with her tears, while his arms shake with anger as he holds her.  

Despite being such a private man, Steve goes on talk shows and shares details of their lives growing up, of the long hours Barnes worked so they could buy the medicine Steve needed to survive each New York winter, of the many fights Barnes had to finish for Steve, of the many times Barnes had saved Steve during the war, always watching his back. Steve’s point is clear: without James Buchanan Barnes, there would be no Captain America. The first time an interviewer asks Steve what he thinks about the information from HYDRA’s file, he walks off the set in the grip of strong emotion. After that, the question never comes up again.

When rumours start to circulate about the nature of their relationship, Steve issues a press release. Steve calls Barnes the love of his life. Martha wants to scream at the thought of the two soldiers finding their way back to each other after seventy years, only to be separated once again.

On the final day of the court-martial, Martha closes the store early and rushes home. She and Robert eat their dinner in front of the TV. When the newscaster reports that James Buchanan Barnes has been acquitted of all charges, Martha jumps to her feet and whoops, and then Robert pulls her into a hug so tight she can hardly breathe. They open the waiting bottle of wine and toast his freedom and his reunion with Steve.

___

Martha and Robert are hiking along the trail by the lake when a flash of light attracts Martha’s attention. She looks around and spots two men standing at the shoreline. Robert doesn’t notice them and is surprised when Martha grips his arm and motions for him to remain quiet. She’s heard all about Steve’s enhanced hearing. Robert’s eyes widen when he sees them and he allows Martha to drag him down behind the elderberry bushes along the trail.

Robert hunkers down a little lower and leans forward to get a closer look. He’s just as curious as she is, and doesn’t bother hiding it. It still vexes him that he didn’t get to meet them when they were in town.

Steve and Barnes are looking out at the lake, standing close enough that their arms brush. They’re dressed for the weather in long-sleeved shirts, and for the first time, Barnes isn’t using his gloves. His left hand gleams in the sunlight. It’s also the first time she’s seen him wearing a color that can be described as something other than ‘dark’. His shirt is terracota red and it suits him very well.

Steve bends down and selects a pebble, tossing it a few times in his right hand, before he throws the stone with a quick snap of the wrist. The pebble flies across the pond so fast that Martha can’t follow its motion, only track it by the ripples it makes as it skips across the lake surface. It travels at least two hundred yards before it sinks. Martha and Robert share a look of stunned amazement.

Steve turns to face Barnes, arms akimbo. Martha doesn't even have to hear him to know he’s crowing. Barnes pushes him back with a hand on Steve’s chest. Steve gives him a most aggravating sort of smile. It’s so bright that Martha feels an answering smile on her own face. Robert winces when she squishes his hand to try and contain her happiness.

Barnes selects his own pebble. He turns it over again and again, weighing, assessing. Then he transfers it to his left hand. He swings so fast that his arm is a blur and the pebble leaves his hand like a bullet shot from a gun. The lake surface fractures in its wake as it skips and skips and skips, travelling half again the distance of Steve’s pebble. The two men stare out at the lake after it sinks.

Barnes folds his arms and turns back to Steve with a smug look on his face. Steve glares at him. Then he throws back his head and laughs. It’s loud, and deep, and full of joy. Barnes ducks his head. Even from where she’s crouched, she can make out the curve of his lips and the crease it makes on the side of his cheek. When Steve’s laughter trails off, he smiles down at Barnes’s bent head with such a besotted look on his face that Martha doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She sort of wants to do both.

Barnes slants Steve a look that’s almost shy. He reaches up with one hand and cups Steve’s face. The smile on Steve’s face changes into something quieter and warmer. Barnes’s face is grave as he pulls Steve into a gentle kiss. Martha feels the sting of tears in her eyes. Robert tugs at her arm as he moves back quietly to the trail. She cranes her neck to look back at them as she stumbles along on stiff knees.

Steve's arms close around Barnes and one hand slides down the long muscles of Barnes's back. It comes to a rest on the swell of Barnes’s butt and Steve pulls him tight against his body. The other hand tangles in Barnes’s hair and angles his head to the side. Barnes’s arms wrap around Steve’s neck. The tenor of the kiss changes and Martha’s face burns. She faces forward and scrambles back onto the trail. Robert is watching her with an amused look when she stops next to him. She fans her cheeks to cool them down. He taps her cheek with one gentle finger. “Oh, shush,” she says with a flapping motion of her hand. Robert takes her hand in his and pulls her to his side with a smile.

She can’t help turning back one last time as they walk away. In the golden glow of the evening, Steve and Barnes are standing with their hands clasping the backs of each other’s neck, foreheads pressed together in a communion, a benediction, a homecoming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So here goes nothing. This is the first fic I've ever finished. Thank you Stucky for ruining my life and waking up my muse. If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! Thanks to dirtybinary ([chennaa](http://chennaa.tumblr.com/)) and lattelotus and one other friend who prefers to remain anonymous for all the support and advice and kicks in the pants to get me started AND finished. 
> 
> I'm also on tumblr drowning in stucky feels. This is me: [yetanotherobsessivereader](http://yetanotherobsessivereader.tumblr.com/)


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